When the spring comes and the snow melts, Mariwan and Rashida plan a secret journey that will change their lives for ever. Slipping out of their homes at dawn, they will meet at the edge of their village of Rezaya, under the large tree that stands sentinel over the graves of their ancestors. And then, like many young Kurds of the Pizhdar region before them, the love-struck teenagers will elope.

Striking out along the steep and narrow mountain paths favoured by smugglers, Kurdish guerillas, and the occasional runaway couple, Mariwan, 19, and Rashida, 17, will trek for four days across the rugged border into Iran. There they will head for the mountain-top village of Nawzang, inhabited by fellow members of the Pizhdar tribe, and throw themselves on the mercy of the village headman or local imam to protect them from being caught or even killed by pursuing members of their families.

Nawzang is clearly not Gretna Green. There are no blacksmiths' anvils; no one-stop wedding packages pre-bookable on the internet. But if popular folklore is anything to go by, Mariwan and Rashida, won't be disappointed.

Betrothal help

"I heard some stories from my village that Nawzang is the place to help us get betrothed," said Mariwan in the town of Ranya last week. "Her father is against the marriage because I am just a shepherd. I know that we will cause problems for our families, but we love each other, so what can we do? We will stuff a backpack with food and go toward our dreams."

In this conservative, tribal and patriarchal region that straddles Iraq's northeastern border with Iran, elopement - and the love, romance and defiance of tradition that often accompany it - is celebrated in poems, songs and stories, says Bwar Noradin, author of a new book, Elopement in Kurdish Culture.

Although the rural Pizhdar region is popularly associated with the practice, "eloping couples are in fact running way across the Kurdistan of Iraq, Iran, Turkey, and Syria - though not in the same numbers as before," said Mr Noradin.

Reasons for the decision to flee vary, he said, according to tribal traditions and local customs, but typically they involve "love and the desire to be free to love and spend their lives with whoever they want". However if a couple hail from poor families, an elopement, though officially frowned upon, can sometimes be a way out of paying for a full wedding ceremony, he said.

The distance the runaway lovers travel will also vary, according to how strict the families are. "If their folks back home are hard-core religious, then the couples may go far, even out of the country. But if they feel there is a chance for reconciliation and an eventual return to the fold, then three to five days away is deemed sufficient," said Mr Noradin.

The key to a successful outcome of the elopement lies in the process of negotiation that usually begins after a couple has been sheltered by the respected or powerful person, perhaps an agha or a sheikh. Acting on behalf of the young lovers under his care, the agha or sheikh may send a message to their families informing them that the runaways are safe with him. He then tries to broker a compromise, usually with the bride's family. That may involve money, property, land, or on occasion the promise of the hand of a sister from the groom's side of the family.

"All parties must feel they have maintained their honour and received their share in the political economy of marriage," said Mr Noradin. The bride's father may receive a 'bride-price'; the mediating party may receive a 'fee,' and the eloping couples' landlord can claim 'marriage duty'."

But elopement does not always have a happy ending. Hamdia Ali Karim is director of the Noah centre in Sulaymaniyah, a refuge for women who have fallen foul of tribal norms. More than 1,000 women have passed through its doors since it opened in 1999.

"When young people from rival tribes run off together it can create big problems," she said. "Sometimes, the couple are pursued, killed in the name of saving honour. We give women sanctuary here and undertake to negotiate on their behalf. We want the women to be able to return to their families."

Authorities' backing

Khanda Jalal, a social worker at the Noah centre, often finds herself travelling to remote parts of Iraqi Kurdistan to try to reach a deal. "Walking into these family and group meetings can be intimidating," she said. "But I have never been threatened. They know we have the backing of the Kurdish authorities and that a solution must be reached."

She cited one recent case where a bride's father had demanded three of the groom's sisters: "I explained to him that women were not property to be traded. He eventually backed down after three months of negotiations during which he dropped his demand to one wife and some money. But we refused and then managed to get an apology from the boy for running off with his daughter. They are now married and living back in their town."

In the tea house in Ranya, Mariwan hopes his planned elopement will lead to a satisfactory resolution. "I want to return to my village with my bride, and my head held high. I want her father to be proud to have me as his son. Is that too much?"